


Learning New Steps

by mphelmsman



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, M/M, No Spoilers, Pre-Riechenbach, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 05:24:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mphelmsman/pseuds/mphelmsman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A case that leads to a dance club lead John and Sherlock into learning a whole new kind of dance with each other. Dancing around each other could never be as satisfying as dancing *with* each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning New Steps

“Sherlock, How the HELL are we supposed to fade into the background here!” John tried to keep his voice to a whisper but it was through clenched teeth. “This is a dance club!”

“Well isn’t it fairly obvious, John, “Sherlock said his eyes flicking around the room, looking for only he knew what. “We…dance.”

“We dance? As in with each other?” John palms started to sweat. He didn’t even know how to dance more than a bit, certainly not like what he was seeing on the dance floor. It was a tango at the moment and he wasn’t sure he could have duplicated the moves with a woman, much less with the long, lean (stop thinking!), rather his gangly flatmate.

“That is rather the way I was thinking. Not good?” Usually this was said in a rather deferential manner but this time something was different in the tone.  This wasn’t a request for guidance, this was a challenge. John raised his eyes to see that Sherlock was no longer scanning the room for his target but was instead staring at him. They eyes were challenging, but also….somewhat nervous, even afraid. John suddenly got the idea that once someone had truly hurt this man and had never thought twice about it. He saw, as he did sometimes, the far too intelligent man that was so often an outcast because of his differences. And he never wanted his name to be on the list of people that had injured this man, with intent or without.

“I….” John swallowed, “I don’t really know how.” Then he placed his hand on Sherlock’s arms. “Teach me?”

Sherlock mouth quirked with that bit of a smile he kept for John alone. “Allow me.” The taller man snaked an arm around John’s waist and guided them smoothly on to the edge of the dance floor. The other hand clasped the Doctor’s and then with subtle shifts of body and the kind of wordless communication that they had made into an art form their bodies came into synch with each other and with the music.

Sherlock took the lead first of course, using his height to bring off the dominance that the lead in a tango must have. But as the music melded into a more familiar waltz John switched so that he took the lead, guiding Sherlock as he so often guided him when dealing with witnesses and Scotland Yard. Sherlock tried to fight him for a moment, John expected that, but eventually let himself relax and the music guided them both around the room. “Still have you eyes on your man?”

“Well yes, John, “Sherlock’s gaze was heated. Then he blinked and faintly colored, “I uhm….” He flicked his eyes around the room. “I don’t see him.”

‘”Distracted?” John murmured, pulling Sherlock even closer, the thrill of knowing that this hyper-alert man had relaxed so much in his arms sending a shiver down his spine.

“The crowd is thick in here.” Sherlock said, his ego rising to the bait.

“Yeah,” John slipped his hand up from around Sherlock’s waist to caress the side of his neck. “I like to think it might just be distraction.” He pressed in close enough that only Sherlock could hear his whisper, “I’m taking your pulse, Sherlock, and I don’t think that’s the thrill of the chase driving it so high.”

“John.” The name fell off Sherlock’s lips like a prayer. And now, right now, after all the times of being caught in Sherlock’s gaze, after all the nights as 221B when he tried so hard not to watch the long line of Sherlock’s body reposed on the couch, after the times he tried to write the pulse of his own blood off to adrenaline or rage or whatever, John finally admitted that Sherlock fit. Fit in his arms, fit in his life, and would most certainly tonight fit in his bed.

He started to tell his partner that, softly, subtly, just with the pressure of his hands on the other man’s body; the shift of hip and thigh and torso. John pushed his hand briefly up tonto the man’s ebony curls and was rewarded with a barely audible growl of pleasure. “So this is what happens now? Tonight?”  John asked feeling Sherlock’s chest vibrate against his.

“You would have to tell me, John. This is one area in which you are somewhat better informed than I.” Sherlock said it very calmly, but John still had a hand on his pulse point and it galloped under his fingers. “In the particular dance of the last two years….you have always had the lead.

“Sometimes in the night sentiment floods my brain and I have the mad notion it may even have been more….maybe even my whole life has been just a wait for someone who can….” Sherlock shrugged, an elegant motion.

John guided his partner off the floor, “Waiting for someone who can what? Put up with you? Understand? Give a rat’s arse about you?” John felt unsteady. He’d never really wanted his theory about Sherlock’s loneliness to be confirmed, but it was. It was confirmed right in those eyes that for once could not bear the weight of John’s gaze. “Right. We’re after a forger tonight and I don’t care if he steals another million or so. We’re going home. Now.”

Sherlock looked consternated but also a bit thrilled…and a bit frightened. “John, the game is *on*. We can’t just leave.”

“Yes.” John gripped Sherlock’s shoulder. “You are more than the Game, Sherlock. And you are more important than the game. And tonight I’m going to teach you that this….” He slid his hand caressingly down from Sherlock’s shoulder, gently tracing the elegant body down to the hip, “is more than transport.”

It seemed easy after that, like a dance, guiding Sherlock out of the club and into a cab that for once answered him as soon as he raised a hand. They sat close in the cab and John could feel his friend vibrating slightly with nerves beside him. He caressed the Sherlock’s long thigh, hiding his hand beneath their coats. “It’s all right, Sherlock. I can teach you this dance.”

Sherlock’s face was blank bit a minute tilt of the head asked a realm of questions. Sherlock voiced only one, “You aren’t gay.” Not really a question but close enough.

“Right,” John smirked, “I said that….but I never said I was straight did I.” He clasped long fingers in his and stilled the slight vibration that ran along them. “I can teach you this.”

“I am not what *he* called me, John. I have shared a bed.” Sherlock said, softly but intently.

“Then from this,” John allowed his fingers to trace the side of his friend’s hand that trembled under his just the faintest amount, “they didn’t take proper care with what they were offered.”

“They….were not unkind.” Sherlock finally shifted his piercing gaze from the window of the cab to John’s eyes. “ They were….adequate for the purpose. To learn the dance was all that I required from them. I do not….. John, please have a care. If this happens tonight, it will not just be transport, not something that happens once and is never mentioned again. I will have given you the last part of me you have not already claimed.”

John snorted, a little incredulous, “You don’t even notice when I go out.”

“You, “ this time Sherlock returned the caress of John’s hand and the Doctor felt himself shiver, “are always present. You have become the walls of my mind palace, your shower gel the scent that winds through the halls. Your voiceprint locks and unlocks the doors for me. I can go to the center of it and there is the taste of every cup of tea you have ever made for me. You stand as the sentinel between whatever is left of my soul and the rest of the world. Surely you know this.”

John licked his lips and swallowed, “No,” he croaked and cleared his throat, “No. I didn’t know.”

“Then the change must have occurred more quickly than I had thought.” Sherlock’s nose crinkled slightly as he thought, “Ah yes, before I met you I would have to go to my bedroom to enter my mind palace, but even that first week all I had to know was that you had cleared the room to feel safe enough to focus.”

“I….don’t understand.”

“To go deep into my mind carries two risks. I must tune out all sensory input, leaving my body vulnerable, but also I can go so deep into my mind that is used to be difficult to come out of it, even when I had solved a puzzle. The first week you we shared the flat I was considering a problem when you brought me a cup of tea.” Sherlock really smiled then, a small delighted smile of the pieces of a puzzle falling together, “A simple thing but your voice caught my attention immediately, bringing me out of my mind.” Sherlock’s eyes turned sly then. “No one had ever been able to do that before so I made sure to ask you to leave the room after that when I really needed full access.”

“I…uh, that’s a compliment.” John said, sighing in relief when the cab stopped in front of their flat.” You just gave me a compliment.”

He got out of the cab and the Detective followed quickly, “Mycroft could yell at me for days without catching my attention. It used to infuriate him.”

John laughed as he unlocked the door to the flat and let them both in. “You must have loved that.”

“I love *you*.” The phrase was soft enough to almost be lost on the breeze but the words in clad in the deep notes of Sherlock’s voice burned from John ear to create flash fires all over his body.

John grabbed Sherlock’s hand and practically dragged him up the stairs but pushed him against the wall inside their own door, stilling the taller man, “Let me.” He murmured, “I’ve wanted to do this for ages.” John cupped his friend’s *his lover’s* face in his hands, moving his fingers just slightly to feel the faintest hint of stubble on under those ridiculous cheekbones. “Yes, just this….just us.” He said nonsensically, but Sherlock seemed to understand and so just stood, waiting for John to show him how the exact cadence of this dance between them.

John lightened his touch, grazing Sherlock’s chin just above the wrapped scarf. “I love this thing….and hate it. I love it because you make taking it off such a dramatic gesture, like you are unfurling wings. I hate it because it hides one of your best features….and the one I can look at without being too obvious.”

“I knew you looked.”

John shrugged, “But you notice everything; nobody else does. I may have led in this dance of ours but a good lead takes their partner into consideration and waits for cues to take the next step.”

“And would this be a correct step.” Sherlock took off his scarf with a flourish and then peeled John coat off of him. “It occurs to me the lead is not what you want in this dance.”

“Being the lead isn’t easy, one misstep and both partners collapse. I…..I never wanted to treat you the way others have. I know….I can tell that they hurt you. Someone, sometime hurt you.”

“Perhaps,” Sherlock said lightly, dismissing the subject, “but they are gone. You are here.”

“And I want to follow your lead, Sherlock, so I can know you. I want no one else to know you like I do.”

“No one does.”

“Then I want to know you even better than that. Take the lead, love, and I will be right on your heel; just like always.”

Sherlock backed John against the other wall of the hall that led to their rooms, “On my heel would put us in a precarious position.”

“Then I can count on you to put us in a better one.” John grinned, feeling every inch of his love’s body rest along his own. He pushed back slightly so Sherlock could feel the reaction their closeness had created in him and was delighted to feel a answering bulge against his hip.

“I know of a number of positions that could be useful.” Sherlock nuzzled under John’s chin then started to delicately nibble. “But perhaps I should start….here.” Sherlock brushed his lips up John’s cheek and softly, ever so softly captured his mouth.

John let himself relax against the wall, giving himself up to the kiss that was a bit tentative but not lacking in technique. But by bit he guided Sherlock in all the things he liked best and finding what Sherlock liked best; nibbling, tasting. The kiss was shallow and teasing at first but each man grew bolder by the second until they were clasped together as if they wanted to take the whole of their partner into themselves. “More,” John muttered as Sherlock dove in for another try. “I need more, love.”

Sherlock nodded but seemed so intent on the kiss that he could not move so John brought back the moves of the dance floor, using minute pressures of hands and hips to guide them both, one step at a time, into Sherlock’s room. The bed looked as if it had not been slept in for a week but John had already known that, actually catching the detective napping on the couch this afternoon. Anyway, John was not going to let this chance go by; he knew he would only get one. He shifted to nipping and licking the long neck that had so often tempted him while he eased the suit coat and then the maddeningly tight dress shirt off the detective’s lean chest. “Oh this….” He said in reverent tones, “This I have dreamt of.” He slid his hands down the hard muscles. “Should have come down after one of those dreams and dragged you in here.”

“You are an idiot. I was always waiting for you to do just that.”

“You’re an idiot…you could have said.” John flipped the snap of Sherlock’s flies open with his thumb and grinned at the gasp he won from it.

“You….” Sherlock colored again, just a bit at his cheekbones, “the girlfriends…..saying you weren’t gay.” Sherlock sped up their pace, pulling John’s shirt out of his trousers roughly. “You never *said*.”

“*You* said ‘married to your work’.” John groaned feeling Sherlock just graze the skin of his waist with his fingertips. “didn’t give me much to work with.”

“A mistake I shall not make twice.” Sherlock pulled John’s jumper and shirt off over his head, not particularly caring if the shirt lost a button or two. Then he gazed, rapt, at John’s naked chest. John shivered with heightened arousal from the look in Sherlock’s eyes. He was deducing, deducing every change of skin tone, every ripple of scar tissue on John’s shoulder. John groaned under that gaze that he had wanted to himself for so long. “May I touch?” Sherlock asked in the way he had when he already knew the answer.

“You damned well better.” John held his breath as Sherlock skimmed his fingertips over every millimeter of bared skin. He knew that every change of texture, the smallest scar as well as the huge life changing one on his shoulder revealed much of John life story to the detective. “Tell me.” He asked breathlessly.

“You always liked sports.” Sherlock answered “You were always small for your years so you had to prove yourself. Mostly you did it through rugby where you got this,” Sherlock traced a tiny line on John’s elbow, “and this.” John felt fingers linger near his left side where he’d gotten another rugby injury that had left his skin slightly different in texture to the rest. “But you had to fight as well, of course you did, being good at a sport never saved a boy completely. You knew early that you wanted to be a surgeon so you were careful but you broke your…” Sherlock probed the muscles of John’s left forearm, “radius I believe. Possibly slamming it against an opponent’s weapon to knock him out of your way.”

 

“Oh Fuck.” John said, turned on by Sherlock stripping his life story from him as if it were another piece of clothing. “Yeah, lacrosse stick. A real prick that guy was.”

Sherlock lifted John’s hand to his mouth and kissed it, massaging the forearm as if to apologize for the injury of so long ago. “They taught you to be strong. They never defeated you. They never will.”

John tried to clear his gaze to give Sherlock a message, the most important he had ever given to him,  “You could. You could destroy me completely. I didn’t have a life when I got back and other than you… this… us, I still don’t have one. Take this away from me and I’ll collapse from the inside. Just implode.”

“I will always come back to you John Watson. Always.” Sherlock’s eyes held a particular intensity, far more than John had ever seen. “I would come back from death for you and for you alone.”

John was caught in that gaze for a breathless moment then chuckled just a bit, “Enough of the show and tell Mr. Detective, I’m not a case file.”

“No,” Sherlock let his eyes close briefly, “You are everything.” His eyes opened and the intensity if not gone had lightened. He pushed John down onto the bed with great care and eased the rest of John‘s clothes off. Every gesture spoke of reverence and near worship that could have made John uncomfortable if he didn’t know that this was his lover’s way. Either something wasn’t worth a second of Sherlock’s time or it was an obsession. John smiled as he writhed under the surprisingly talented fingers the Sherlock used to sensitize every nerve on his body. He was so glad he fitted into the second category.

John could have almost lost himself in Sherlock’s skill but his own desire to pleasure the man surged to the front. He wrapped his arms around the slimmer man’s waist and turned them over. “This dance requires two. I won’t have you cheating yourself for me.”

“Pleasuring myself by learning you is hardly cheating myself, John.”

“Then you are cheating me because I want to learn you as well. I want to learn if this,” John nipped on Sherlock’s collarbone and enjoyed the shudder it caused, “will cause that. I want to learn if you like my hand here.” John gripped Sherlock’s hip to hold him steady. “Or if it is better here.” He rolled them slightly on their sides and for the first time left himself explore Sherlock’s cock with a gentle but firm touch. He cupped the balls briefly but then went back to the slender hip to hold him still as he drew his fingers up and down the hard, hot, already leaking rod that thrust from a soft bushy pile of curls.

“There.” Sherlock answered briefly, his eyes closing in bliss, “Ah, yes, John.”

“Mmmmmm yes. Words of one syllable. I could get to like that.” John kissed the slightly parted lips. “Especially that last word. You say so much to me with just my name.” John tightened his grip slightly, allowing the tender skin to drag against his palm slightly. “Tell me more.”

“John! I…please.” Sherlock opened his eyes and John could see a world of desperation that his touch had unlocked. “I…need. I’ve been waiting and…John oh please. I need…”

“What love?” John said with all the tenderness he had always held in his heart for this man. “Tell me what you need…even what you want. Whatever I have is yours.”

“Just…just you. However, I don’t care. I just want it to be you tonight and not just a dream that I create. I want it to be real.” Sherlock grabbed the back of John’s head and pulled him into a kiss that showed in its desperate nature just how often Sherlock had created dreams of John in his mind to fill the emptiness of his bed. John took in the desperation and turned it into reassurance and the gentle strength that he knew so well how to give.

When Sherlock had calmed a bit into an eager hum with only an edge of desperation John pulled back. “I’m not going to leave you hang, Sherlock, but I want you to remember this. I want you to imprint this into your mind palace so that no matter what happens you can always come back to this moment when everything is new for us and then remind me of it so we can fall in love all over again.” He placed Sherlock’s hands onto the mattress and pressed down a bit with the subtle message not to move. “Let me do this for you this first time. There will be so many times after this but let me do this now.”

Sherlock nodded without a word his hips shifting a bit on the bed as his cock jumped with pulsing blood. John soothed it and learned from the deep tearing groan that no matter what he did tonight it had better be quick. Sherlock was right on the edge and they had hardly done anything. To be truthful it was just as well; John wasn’t that far behind him. With that in mind he dropped immediately to the level of Sherlock stomach and started licking and nibbling the skin under his navel, occasionally ringing it and dipping his tongue in. He felt Sherlock’s hips buck and the man’s cock left a trail of moisture on is shoulder where is had slid along. John put an arm over his partner’s hips and held him down, delighted by the pleasured groan he received for that mood. “That’s something to explore later.”

“And now?” Sherlock groaned through clenched teeth and john looked up to see the whole tense lines of him. Every inch of this man was waiting for John to pleasure him. It was a font of intoxication that John wanted to visit again and again.

Still this first time would be the best, if likely the fastest, as John lowered his lips to surround Sherlock’s cock and with slow, soft suction ease the respectably sized rod into his mouth. The startled cry of ecstasy was all the John could have asked for. “God, John, yes!” John pushed his lovers thrusting hips back down and sucked lightly, stimulating him as best he could as he prepared to do something he hadn’t done in years. Then carefully he slid his lips further and further down Sherlock until he felt the head just brush the back of his throat. He held there for a moment taking a breath through his nose as he felt the delighted cries and a hand latch onto his shoulder. Then slowly he took in the last bit and deliberately swallowed around the head of the cock filling him, one, twice, and then again.

“Ah, John!” Sherlock grasped John’s shoulder desperately, “Please!” John pulled back and pressed his tongue firmly against the underside of the shaft, bobbing his head a few times just for the thrill of Sherlock squirming under the pleasurable assault. He drew back to the tip and sucked hard, feeling Sherlock’s fingers tangle into his hair. John hummed in pleasure and felt Sherlock again try to thrust against that arm laid over his hips. Then he drew the whole of Sherlock’s cock back in, this time without deep throating him, and massaged every inch with his tongue and lips. The cries above him were continuous now and John knew it wouldn’t be long. He was glad, he wanted to taste Sherlock more than anything in this moment, so he took his restraining arm off and instead put a hand under his ass to coax him into thrusting into John’s mouth. The first few times were tentative but soon the rhythm started to increase.

Then as Sherlock’s cries and moans took on a frustrated note John slid a hand up Sherlock thigh and to the perineum where he started to rub firmly. “Ohhhh,” Sherlock groaned, “Yes right there….going to….right there, right *there*!” Sherlock thrust hard but john was ready for him and sucked firmly as he started to come, filling John’s mouth. John tasted the saltiness on his lover’s ejaculate and swallowed it all down with a moan of his own, holding Sherlock in his mouth gently until he had the very last drop.

He dropped his head down to Sherlock’s hip, panting, and let his own neglected cock have a few strokes now that he was not giving all his attention to his love. “Come here, John, please. I want to do that for you.” Sherlock’s voice was calm for someone who had just climaxed rather explosively but John would have been nervous if it had been anything else. Sherlock must always be Sherlock, John would have it no other way.

John surged up Sherlock body to share a kiss that transferred the taste of come from John to Sherlock’s own mouth in a tangle of tongues and lips and teeth. “Don’t think I could last long enough for you to do all that. But those violinist fingers of yours…..”

“Thought about them?” Sherlock deftly grasped John in those sensitive digits and stroked him firmly. John could already feel the burn of his orgasm building with just a few strokes.

“Damn near every night lately. Bring me off…just like this.”

“As you wish.” Sherlock chuckled deeply and John groaned in the duel pleasure of Sherlock’s hand on him and the rumble of his laughter. Sherlock should always laugh just like this, but only in their bedroom where John could feel it vibrate in his own chest.

He felt his muscles tighten as Sherlock played him exquisitely. As he neared the end Sherlock lightened his touch and kept him just on the edge for several long minutes. Just as the pleasure began to turn into frustration Sherlock nudged John’s chin up, put his lips directly on John’s wildly pounding pulse and pulled him directly over the edge into a shuddering orgasm, feeling every twitch of John’s body as the come spurted all over both their chests. “God, Sherlock…..” John gasped, “Oh fuck you are deducing my *orgasm*!” and he felt himself shudder and spurt one more time at that thought. He lay back on the mattress twitching and gasping for air.

“I think.” Sherlock nudged his nose into John jaw, “that you quite like that….my deducing you in bed.”

“Like that’s news.” John gasped weakly, “I like your deducing everywhere. Why do you think I’d get so stroppy sometimes during a case? Fuck all I could do about it when you were working a crime scene. I didn’t want to give Greg a totally wrong idea.” John wrapped his arms around the younger man and drew his head down to his good shoulder. “Probably still have the same problem won’t I?”

“Yes, but I plan to compensate you for your patience now that I know of your particular pleasures. It may even give me incentive to close cases earlier. Or to string out my deductions more.” Sherlock’s hand stroked up and down John’s hip and thigh, idly caressing.

“Oh you would too. I am so fucked.”

“Actually I thought perhaps that later tonight. I can only spare tonight John. There is a case to be solved.”

“Thank you for sparing me the night, I’m surprised you are going to let me have all of it.”

“Our quarry isn’t a serial killer.”

“Good job he wasn’t or I never would have got your attention.”

“Quite likely.” Sherlock admitted. He tucked his head right under John’s chin, “Thank you, for this. For waiting and then…not waiting. I’m glad we have this now, in this time.”

John placed a kiss in the curls cushioning his chin. “I’m glad too. It won’t change much. Everyone thinks we’ve been doing this all along.”

“Actually John,” Sherlock murmured as John drifted into a post orgasmic haze, “this may have changed everything.”


End file.
